I Can't Hear You With That Gauze in Your Mouth

So, the oldest boy needed his wisdom teeth out. All 4. At once. And I scheduled it for his winter break from school. Yes, I know. I'm probably not winning any mother of the year awards with this one. Moms think pragmatically in terms of not missing school, having the time off to recover, and making it easier on their schedules since they are already off for Presidents Day. Fifteen year old boys think, "This is gonna suck."

And because he's a boy, he had some serious anxiety about the procedure. Kind of like when your husband gets sick and he's the sickest person that has ever existed in the world, much sicker than you were when you had it two weeks ago and still cooked dinner, ran carpool, and washed 18 loads of laundry. While outwardly I was supportive Mom, inwardly I was thinking, "Suck it up cupcake. You're young, healthy, and this is going to be a blip on your radar in 6 months." But I can't say that because that's mean, insensitive, and I'm supposed to be developing his sense of self or some other happy crap like that.

The whole reason they have to come out, years before they're making an appearance, is because when they do pop up to say hello, they are going to undo $5,000 of braces. He's had them off for almost a year and I don't even own them yet. I still have two payments left. I'll be damned if I have to re-brace this kid's teeth. They got to come out. A-sap.

He was consoled some upon hearing about this medicine that they give that makes you "loopy" and could possibly "make you lose the whole day". I'm not sure why, but the boy seemed really excited that he might not remember the entire day. In fact, the morning I gave him the meds he said, "See you tomorrow." So imagine how pissed he was when he remained totally cognizant and did not, in fact, forget the entire day.

Since they relegate moms to waiting room status, I sat there stressing out about my poor boy for about 45 minutes until they finally called me into the waiting room. He's sitting up, chipmunk cheeks stuffed with gauze, angrily trying to tell me that he is NOT loopy like the nurse kept insisting. (Although, he did have a slight glassiness to his eyes. I didn't tell him that to add fuel to his indignant fire though.) I can not understand a word he's saying. He's drugged up, numbed down, stuffed with gauze and trying to tell me he's fine. I'm trying my hardest not to laugh because I seriously can NOT understand what he's saying. This doesn't seem to be a deterrent since he keeps trying to shift the gauze to a better position to get actual recognizable words out. It's not working. I lose the battle and start laughing only to have him shooting daggers at me with his eyes.

He insisted again today that he was not loopy and that the nurse was really condescending because she kept insinuating that he was, and his mom was laughing. I had to tell him, "Oh sweetie, I wasn't laughing because you were loopy, I was laughing because I couldn't understand you and you kept trying to talk." Oddly enough, that seemed to pacify him. I guess I'll never understand fifteen year old boys.